Scenes from an Unconventional Romance
by Hokai Amplifier
Summary: Heather and Draco need to stop insulting each other and examine their feelings. Set in sixth year, rated for foul language most of the time. Expect heart-to-hearts, family, and school issues.
1. A Breakfast Diversion

A/N: Hey everyone. I would just like to assure you that my character is not a Mary Sue in any way. And I've tried hard not to deviate from Malfoy's character, and I think I partially succeeded. I think. Anyway. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed making it. I made this story purely for entertainment purposes, so you'll have to excuse any plot holes or whatever.

Draco Malfoy sidled next to them as they went through the ornate double doors into the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Hey, Potter – " he started to say, but Heather Parker cut him off.

"Yes, Malfoy, we all know what you're going to say. Hermione is a know-it-all mudblood, Ron wears hand-me-downs and is a blood traitor, and Harry associates with the lowest kind of riffraff instead of hanging out with you, boo hoo. Come back when you have something new, okay? And you look like a ridiculous prat with your hair. Run along now." She made a shooing motion with her hand, and all those present laughed raucously, the Gryffindors loudest. Ron reddened and surreptitiously smoothed out his robes.

"Good one, Heather!" Fred or George said from behind her, and thumped her on the back.

Malfoy shot her a malevolent look. "We're not finished, Parker."

"Whatever," she muttered to herself as he stalked away. She let herself be carried by the crush of bodies to the Gryffindor table, and ended up sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"That was good of you earlier, Heather," said Harry, smiling at her.

"Yeah, even though you were… uh…" Ron trailed off uncomfortably. "Anyway. Aren't your family friends with Malfoy?"

She wrinkled her brow. "Well, not really friends. We just get invited to the same parties and whatever." She poured cereal in her bowl, then milk. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.

"Well?" Hermione prompted.

"Well what?" she asked, spooning cereal into her mouth.

"You were going to say something," said Hermione, biting into a muffin.

Heather ate more cereal, considering. The three of them ate their breakfast, waiting for her. "They're a boring lot, but there are some stuff going on with them that I'm not interested in knowing."

"Stuff?" asked Ron eagerly. "Like what?"

"Haven't you been listening, Ron?" Hermione rebuked. "Now hurry up, or we're going to be late." She finished off her muffin with milk.

"Hermione, Charms is still fifteen minutes away," Harry said reasonably. "And we've only been eating for three minutes."

"Yes, but I have to set an example as Head Girl," argued Hermione. "Besides, I want to get some studying done."

"Unbelievable," Ron muttered.

Heather ducked her head behind her hair – it was times like these that having long hair was handy – and tuned out the clanking of spoons against plates, and the indistinct noise and rumble of voices. She stared at her bowl while eating, her mind blissfully blank. After a few moments, there was a tug on her sleeve.

"Heather, aren't you coming?" asked Hermione.

"Oh," she said, taken aback by the invitation. "Uh… you guys go on ahead. I'm not finished yet," she said without thinking, and then hated herself for it. She wanted to go with them, she wanted to have a circle of friends, but she didn't want to look eager or inconsistent, so she smiled at them.

"If you're sure," Harry said. "We'll save you a seat."

She beamed at him, feeling touched. "I'd like that. Yes, please. Thanks."

Not long after they left, the owls came. She recognized their white great horned owl from home. It dropped a letter on her cereal, then flapped its wings and clucked its beak insistently. "Yes, yes, Augustine," she cooed, stroking its head. She took the letter and offered the bowl to it. "Sorry I don't have a proper treat for you." Augustine hooted once irritably, and flew away.

She opened the opened the envelope and inside found her mother's large, cursive handwriting, and another thicker envelope. She read her mother's letter first.

_Darling,_

_Just got an owl yesterday from the Zabinis. You go to school with Blaise, wasn't it? His sister Deirdre is getting married this Christmas and we're invited. I'll be shopping for dresses later to get it out of the way. Darling, _please _say you'll come! I'll get dreadfully bored without you making snarky remarks. _

_Dad wants to go to Italy for Christmas vacation. I know we already went there, but Dad loves it so much, and you enjoyed yourself there, didn't you? He's already looking through Muggle timetables and guidebooks. He says he wants to go there by train the Muggle way. Muggles pay a lot for the scenic route, but it's worth it. We'll reserve that villa from last time and walk all over the place. _

_Love,_

_Mum_

She grinned to herself, piling her dark brown hair on one shoulder. She could imagine her mother writing the letter at the breakfast table, cigarette in one hand, and pineapple juice in front of her, before she went to work at the Department of International Magical Cooperation of the Ministry. She put the letter on the table and took out the heavy envelope that was the invitation to Deirdre Zabini's wedding. It gave off an aroma of vanilla.

Deirdre Zabini was six years older than her, and was wild, tactless, and generous, and Heather loved her for that. Being members of prominent families, they attended the same social functions and parties. Deirdre would always pull her away from whatever party they were attending to smoke, even if Heather didn't. They would talk about boys and Hogwarts professors and just about anything they could think of. They didn't talk when they were in Hogwarts, though, Deirdre being in her last year when she just entered. And after she graduated, they never saw each other again, except for a brief glimpse at a Christmas party at the Zabinis', but they intermittently kept in touch by owl.

Now just twenty-two, and already going to be married! Heather marveled. She thought it would have taken Deirdre more time to settle, but apparently not. Now she was going to be married to Jefferson Pritchard, whose brother Graham was three years behind her, a third-year Slytherin, and as every bit sleazy and malevolent as his fellow Slytherins, not least of them Malfoy.

She unfolded the invitation. It was printed in heavy perfumed paper, and there was a picture of the two of them, Deirdre leaning into him, and he smiling confidently into the camera. _Asshole, _she thought, not liking Jefferson Pritchard at first glance. She scanned the list of names, recognizing most of them. Of course all the prominent families were present. She tucked the invitation with her mother's letter, making a mental note to send back the invitation and a reply to her mother.

"Hey Parker," Malfoy sauntered over to her, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as always. "I like that look on you," he pointed to her hair piled on one shoulder. "You look like you're ready to be a wife, like Zabini's sister."

"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you, Malfoy. You look like a snooty, theatergoing homosexual. And an idiot," she added thoughtfully. "Where's your other pug-faced girlfriend?"

"What do you mean, _other _girlfriend?" his eyes narrowed.

"Why, aren't these two your girlfriends too?" she asked innocently, looking at Crabbe and Goyle.

"I came here to be civil, Parker," Malfoy snapped. "But it appears that your mother never raised you with any manners."

"And it appears that your mother never raised you with witty comebacks, and so you grew up to be a sore loser," she replied coolly. "Run along now, go on." She stood up.

"What, going to hex me?" sneered Malfoy.

She looked at him with disdain. "Don't be silly, Malfoy. I'm going to class. Unless you want to walk with me."

"I'd rather swim with the giant squid." He turned around and stalked away.

She walked off in the other direction, leaving her half-full bowl of cereal and completely missing the looks of approval and awed whispering among the Gryffindors.


	2. A Trip to Hogsmeade

A/N: Right. So, I realize the name might be too cheerleader-ish (my best friend said so). When I was in grade school, my friends and I made up characters for ourselves that had the initials "HP". So. Yeah. Mine was called Heather Parker, and my ex-friend's was Hallie Pother. Enjoy!

Heather spent her Saturday sipping butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks with Draco Malfoy. She was surprised to be with him, but it didn't last long.

"Hmm, the steak maybe… But I'm not that hungry. I'm not in the mood for soup too. Damn, but I'm sort of hungry. Damn stupid idiot stomach…" Malfoy rolled his eyes at her dithering. "Hmm, oh they have potatoes, those will work." She raised her hand, and Madam Rosmerta instantly came, notepad in hand.

"Well, well, Heather darling! How nice of you to drop by! Do give my love to your dear mother... And you're here with Draco! Well, well…" her voice trailed away. She nodded significantly to herself. Draco ignored her, and looked away.

"It's good to see you too, Madam Rosmerta. Business is booming, I hope." She grinned at the centerpiece, a glass vase with changing iridescent patterns, stuck with a single daisy. "These vases are very nice." She glanced at Malfoy and caught him glowering at her making small talk, which made her grin widen.

"Why thank you, dear, got a good bargain at the flea market at Kirkwood Street, maybe you'd like to stop over there before going back to Hogwarts. Now then, what will you have?" Madam Rosmerta's smile was cherry red.

"I'd like some of your mashed potatoes and more butterbeer, please," said Heather.

"_Accio butterbeer!" _Madam Rosmerta summoned a fresh bottle of butterbeer in front of her. "I'll be a minute with your potatoes, dear," she said, and glided away.

"You are such a fucking bitch, Parker," Malfoy told her once Madam Rosmerta was gone.

"Same to you," Heather replied unconcernedly. "Now, what did you drag me here for? Just to say that? Because you know you can do it back at school. In front of everyone, if you want. During breakfast, if you want to ruin everyone's day. You have to – "

"Shut up," Malfoy cut her off. "You know, you shoot your mouth off like that, someone's bound to make you pay for it."

"Your concern is touching, and I will certainly consider it." She paused for five seconds. "No thanks." She piled her hair on one shoulder.

Draco was steaming. She was just so infuriating! If only she could stop talking too much and just fucking shut up, she would be semi-bearable. He was having trouble holding a decent conversation with her without having to resort to taunts, snide remarks, and cursing.

He watched her as she took a sip of butterbeer. When she had her mouth shut, nobody would have suspected it was full of barbed wire. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he glared at her back. They were like that for a full three minutes until Madam Rosmerta came with a plate of fresh mashed potatoes. The steam hung in the air for a moment before disappearing.

She offered her plate to him. "Want some?" she asked, like they weren't just glaring at each other several minutes ago.

"No thanks," he said coldly.

"Your loss," she shrugged, and began eating. After her first bite, she scrunched her eyes and smiled, taking a deep breath. The blood rushed to his head. "This is really great, better than home. Go on, have some." She pushed her plate towards him.

He reluctantly scooped a forkful. She was right – they were delicious. He didn't say so, though. He ate another forkful, and another. Soon, they were wordlessly sharing the plate.

When they were finished, she pushed it away. "So," she said, tenting her fingers. "What did you really bring me here for? If it's blackmail, no thanks – I'm not in the mood."

"I told you, Parker," he said, annoyed. "Just to tell you how much of a bitch you are."

"Only for that?" she looked amused. "And I already told you, you could have just told it to me, in front of everyone, just so you would look less pathetic. And why didn't you bring your little friends with you?"

"They're all out," he muttered, looking away.

"Really?" she said, sounding delighted and amused. "Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Detention with McGonagall," he said through gritted teeth.

"Pansy Parkinson?"

"Couldn't find her, couldn't stand her anyway."

"Zabini?"

"Couldn't find him too. You're the only one left."

"Maybe he's with Parkinson," she speculated.

He paused. "That's a thought." He imagined the two of them together, but all he could come up with was a locked door and suspicious sounds within.

"Wait, what do you mean, I'm the only one left?" she asked curiously.

"Just that," he shrugged. "Look, are you done interrogating me? Can we go now?"

"I'm the only one left of what? You're not my friend," she insisted.

"Look, Parker," he said, grabbing her wrist. "Like it or not, you're in my circle."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's really gross. What should I do to relieve myself of that dubious honor?"

"When I say so," he snarled, irritated. "Now, let's go." He threw some galleons and sickles on the table and yanked her to her feet.

"Hey," she said, sounding outraged. "You better hope you left some bruises there, or I'll make you sorry." She didn't wriggle out of his grip, though, and he ignored her.

They marched out of the shop and into the bitter December cold, with him still gripping her wrist. "Let's go to Honeydukes," he said, and he pulled her to its direction.

"I feel like a naughty child," she remarked mildly, pulling her scarf tighter with her free hand.

At her remark, a mental image of him looking down at her while she was face down on his lap filled Malfoy's mind, and he dropped her wrist like a hot potato. "Just shut up, all right?" He growled.

"You know, I could just leave you if you don't start being nice," she protested. "I don't really have to put up with you, but I like ruining your day all the same."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. "So," she said brightly. "Do you like Pansy Parkinson?"

He looked at her in disgust. "What kind of question is that?"

"An interrogative question. Now answer, please."

"Are you always this sarcastic?"

"I eat it for breakfast. Now, do you like Pansy Parkinson?"

"'Course not!" He snorted. "I'd have to be daft. You eat sarcasm for breakfast? What the hell kind of statement is that?"

"So why d'you keep her around you?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "'Cause," he said with exaggerated patience, "people are gonna think I'm gay if I hang out with boys all the time. Even Potter keeps that mudblood around."

She smacked him at the back of his head. "If you say that word around me again, I will hex you to oblivion, you miserable weasel." Her eyes blazed, and she had her wand ready. She sounded genuinely angry.

Malfoy was in no mood to have his afternoon spoiled further. "Whatever, Parker. Let's just fucking walk."

They walked in silence again, Heather still holding her wand.

"Why are you still holding your wand?" he asked after some time.

She glared at him. "Just in case you're being an asshole again."

He stopped and faced her squarely. "Look, you can put your wand away. I am not in the mood for your fuck bloody insults and sarcasm. I want a peaceful afternoon. God! I'll even call you by your stupid name. Heather – there. All right, Heather?"

"I'm not calling you by your stupid name, and don't call me by mine," she said stubbornly.

"Fine, then don't! All I want is a stupid nice afternoon," he hissed.

"If that's what you want, you shouldn't have taken me with you," she challenged. "Take me or leave me."

He let out an angry sigh. "I'm taking you." He grabbed her by the wrist again.

Stupid bloody contrary git! Heather fumed. _He shouldn't have taken me to stupid Hogsmeade, and I'm not even his stupid friend! Now he wants to enjoy the afternoon, that fuck bloody idiot! What an idiot!_ She repeated this over and over again in her mind until she calmed down. She took a deep breath to relax herself, and she felt nothing again.

"Fuck bloody," she said to herself, "that's a good word. Where'd you get it?" she asked him.

Malfoy grunted.

"Are you really this passive-dependent that you'll take someone you don't like just so you won't be alone?" she asked.

He grunted again.

"Look, if you're going to answer like a fuck bloody pig, then I'll just go," she said irritably, and tried to jerk her wrist from his grasp, but his grip tightened. The truth was, she never could abide silence when she was with someone.

"Hey, that's my word," he said, glaring. After a heartbeat, he smirked at her. "Don't go using it too much."

She laughed, and smacked him on the arm. "Fuck bloody, fuck bloody, fuck bloody."

He let himself laugh too, and squeezed her wrist once before releasing it. She pulled back her sleeve and inspected her wrist. She brightened. "Hey! Wow! Look!" she showed him a small round purple bruise.

"Fuck!" He cursed under his breath. He looked at her with concern, but he was careful not to show too much. "Damn. I... I did that. I… Oh god. God. Does it hurt? Damn." He tried to take her wrist, but she refused.

"Oh, come on. Don't overreact! Don't you think it's cute?"

"Cute?" he repeated, staring at her blankly.

"Yeah! Look. Isn't it cute? See! So colorful!" She poked it. "Ow!" She poked it some more. "Ow! Ow!" She shuddered in delight.

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair. "Merlin, Parker. You are _so _fucking weird."


	3. Interrogation and Speculation

A/N: This is the longest I've worked on a fanfic. Dunno why. Sometimes, I get so scared that I'll abandon this before it's finished, and then I rush off and continue writing. As usual, enjoy!

Sunday noon, Heather was trying on dresses her mother sent for Deirdre Zabini's wedding.

"So, Heather," her roommate Parvati Patil began. "What's Malfoy to you?"

She looked surprised at the question. "Huh?"

"Well…" Parvati said coyly. "You were seen with him in Hogsmeade! Was it a date?"

"A date?" Heather repeated. "No way! He just dragged me with him."

"Really." Parvati drew out the word.

"Unzip me, will you?" she asked, turning around. Parvati got off her bed and helped Heather out of a white dress. "Yes, really, Parvati. I can't decide! Which one looks best?"

"God, your mum has fabulous taste. Let's see…" Parvati sat on the edge of her bed and leaned forward. "The white one looks good, but you might look like a bride, and you know they say you can't look like the bride on her day. I vote for the purple and yellow, it has a gorgeous neckline, but this black and gold one looks beautiful too, with that fabulous bubble skirt. Damn! Now I can't decide too! Well, why you?"

"Why me what?" She held up the purple and yellow strapless cocktail dress. "Isn't it too bare?"

"Don't be silly, Heather! If you put a shawl over it I will _kill _you. You have nice shoulders anyway. Put it on!"

"I don't know," she said, when she tried on the dress. She covered her chest area. "I feel so bare!"

"Oh please," Parvati chided. "It's perfect! Now, why did Malfoy drag _you _to Hogsmeade?"

"But if I don't cover up, it's my dad who's going to kill me!" she wailed.

"He won't kill his only daughter," Parvati said confidently. "You know, you should really take advantage of being an only child. I don't think parents in general can resist."

"I know," she laughed. "I wasn't brought up that way, though, because we were all expecting mum to produce another baby. When I finally realized mum doesn't want to have another kid, they already had me whipped into shape. But I'd like a little brother, though. Or a twin, like you and Padma. Do you have that extra special bond people talk about?"

"Yeah, I guess." Parvati shrugged. "If by extra special bond you mean finishing each other's sentences by six, and I absolutely can't lie to her." She paused. "You know, we always thought we'd be sorted in the same house. We already made plans on how to get house points and how to sneak out at midnight, and where we'd study together. So, after Sorting Night, we were crying when she got into Ravenclaw and me Gryffindor. Now, though, it's not that big a deal. We get together sometimes, but we have our own friends."

"I'd love that," said Heather. "You know what? Sometimes I wish I had a big family like the Weasleys. They look like they always have fun."

"_I _don't," Parvati declared. "I bet their house gets really crowded. You know they're not… rich."

"But still," Heather insisted. "I don't think that matters a lot."

"Heather! Damn it, you almost made me forget." She narrowed her eyes. "Nice try."

"What?" Heather widened her eyes innocently.

"Oh, please. Your innocent act won't work on me. So why did Malfoy take you, of all people, to Hogsmeade?"

Heather shrugged. "He ran out of people to take." She twirled around in front of the mirror. "I don't think I can get used to this kind of neckline." She tugged on the hem. "And this kind of length. Anything above the knee is unacceptable."

"So you're, like, a standby for Malfoy? And you're okay with that?" Parvati sounded incredulous.

Heather sighed deeply and faced her roommate. "I take a different view of the matter. I had nothing to do, and I wanted to see what he wanted, so I went. You know, Parvati, you talk as if we're going out."

"Well, aren't you?" Parvati raised an eyebrow.

She sighed deeply again. "No," she said with exaggerated emphasis. "It was _not a date_. I am not going out with him. Just because a boy and a girl go out together doesn't mean they're on a date." She took off the dress and put it back into its box.

"Yes it does!" insisted Parvati. "Unless they're friends. Well, are you friends?"

"That's ridiculous, Parvati. There are all sorts of reasons why two people go someplace together, and they do _not_ need to be friends, or lovers."

"Ohoho, I beg to disagree!" She grinned. "Well, why do you think Malfoy brought you?"

"I _told _you, already," said Heather, beginning to get annoyed. As a result, she shoved the boxes into their paper bags with more force than necessary. "And I can tell that I'll have to repeat it over and over and over again. But can you please listen? There might be a chance that it'll get through your head. _He didn't have anyone else to bring. _He didn't have anyone else to bring. He didn't have anyone else to bring. He didn't have anyone else to bring. He didn't have anyone else to bring."

"All right, all right," Parvati held up a hand, grinning. "But I think you're missing the point."

"You certainly seem to have more thoughts about this than I do." Heather folded her arms, not amused anymore. "Do let's hear them. Oh, but before you start, I just have to take this last chance: He didn't have anyone else to bring, all right? He didn't have anyone else to bring. He didn't have anyone else to bring." She gathered the paper bags and stalked angrily out the room.

"I think it's a date, and I think he likes you!" Parvati shouted at her retreating back. Heather didn't hear her.

Heather fumed all the way down the stairs, prepared to dismember anyone who got in her way. She went out into the common room, where there were already a fair amount of people getting their homework done, or chatting.

Before she reached the portrait, a girl suddenly shouted, "Heather and Malfoy, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" All those present laughed.

She turned around. "All right!" she raised her voice, and the noise dwindled. "I can see that there are people who are prepared to make a big deal out of nothing, and that's just _pitiful_." She spat out the last word. "I'd tell them to mind their own business, but their business is probably so pathetic and miserable that they'd jump at any piece of information and twist it into vicious proportions to make themselves happy. Well then, go ahead. I'm sure it'll give a momentary bit of color in your lives, to have something new to chat over the fireside – " the people sitting by the fire looked at each other and moved away " – and to give the old topics a rest, that you don't even notice your skirt is burning." She clambered swiftly out of the portrait, the smell of smoke and the sounds of an uproar making her smile.

"Bravo!" she heard Fred or George clapping.

After she had gone to the Owlery and sent the dresses back home – picking the black and gold dress because it was pretty and colorful and not too immodest – she went out to the grounds for a walk to clear her head. She didn't want to go back inside the castle – she'd been accosted by people she didn't even know, asking if it was true she and Malfoy were an item now. _Merlin! _She fumed. _It was just one measly Hogsmeade trip! _Pointing and whispers followed her everywhere, and she was dangerously close to using an Unforgivable on someone.

She went into the direction of the lake, the bitter wind slapping at her face. She shoved her hands into her pockets, fisting them. She had forgotten her scarf and her gloves, but she didn't want to go back inside. Maybe she could go for a swim and continue on out to the sea. Oh no, those were rivers. Well, maybe the giant squid could eat her. At least that'll give those people something _real_ to talk about.

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind her, but she ignored it. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away. She kept her head down and walked faster. The footsteps also quickened. She felt her heart pounding madly, but she resisted the urge to run. _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin… _

Draco Malfoy fell into step beside her. "Oh, it's you," she said, disappointed and relieved at once. She thought a maniac was chasing her. "What now?"

"Where the hell is your scarf?" he demanded. "Don't you know it's freezing? You're turning blue."

"What's your point?" she snapped.

"Someone's tetchy today," he remarked. He removed his green and silver scarf and handed it to her.

"This is Slytherin," she said accusingly, not taking it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just take it! You're cold." He shook the scarf at her.

"People are gonna think I'm a traitor!" She shook her head vehemently.

"We'll deal with them later." He glanced sideways at her and smirked. "Although, I never pegged you as someone who cares what other people think."

She flushed as she snatched the scarf from him and savagely wound it around her neck. "I _don't, _but it would look bad for the rest of the Gryffindors."

"Fuck Gryffindor," he said, earning a glare from her. "Fuck Slytherin too."

"Well, I know _you're _worried about what other people think," Heather challenged.

"Oh, yeah? How?" Malfoy tried to keep his teeth from chattering at the sudden cold.

"Didn't you say you let Pansy Parkinson hang around because you're afraid people might think you're gay?" she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well, that's different. That kind of rumor is damaging."

"_I_ think it's something you can ignore."

"If something like that reached my father, he would punish me severely."

"Even if it's just a stupid rumor?"

"Even if it's just a stupid rumor," he confirmed.

"Well, what kind of punishment?"

Before he could answer, they encountered a group of Hufflepuff girls who

giggled at the sight of them. Heather's eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Heather and Draco," one of them said. "So you two are, like, dating?" They all laughed. "And here you are, pretending to hate each other, but you secretly meet! Look, she even has his scarf!"

"Fuck off and mind your own business, you miserable nosy parker," Malfoy said sharply.

"Wait, I think I recognize you," said Heather wonderingly. "I've seen you before! Yeah… I think you were in Mungo's, in the mental ward when I visited my gran! They let you out for school, huh? Man, those guys are careless, letting lunatics mix with normal people." She clucked her tongue and shook her head.

They left the girls openmouthed in shock.

"Fucking hell, those are the worst," said Heather irritably. "Now you understand why I'm tetchy."

"You have a gran in the mental ward?" asked Malfoy with equal parts curiosity and horror.

"Duh, 'course not," she snorted, and pulled the scarf tighter around her. It smelled fresh and soapy. _This is what Malfoy smells like?_

"You know, silver and green suits you," he said after a while, smirking.

"And red and gold would give you some color," she shot back.

"I can never win with you," said Malfoy, dragging his hand through his hair. "Merlin."

"Why, are we in a competition?" Heather challenged. Still, she felt secretly pleased and proud at his remark.

They turned a corner and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione coming up from

the path to Hagrid's hut.

"Heather!" they waved at her, but stopped when they realized who she was with.

"So it's true?" Ron blurted out when they were close.

"Don't be such a bloody idiot, Weasley," Malfoy snapped. "Of course not. I'd have thought you'd know, seeing as you're all friends."

"'Course we don't believe the rumors," Harry snapped back at him.

"We were looking for you, Heather," said Hermione, ignoring Malfoy pointedly. "So we could all go to Hagrid's together. But Parvati said you were out."

"Oh yeah, I went to the Owlery to send a letter to mum. It got so stuffy inside the castle, so I went out for a walk." She smiled at Hermione gratefully. She turned to Ron. "And Ron, don't worry. It's not true. This slimy git just invited himself."

"Hey," Malfoy protested. "I'm here."

"Well… See you at the common room later?" Harry said.

"Sure," Heather gave her megawatt grin. "See you lot later."

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out of earshot, Malfoy rounded on her. "Slimy git?" he demanded.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Want to hear the rest? There's bloody idiot, naffing asshole, miserable weasel, ridiculous prat, pathetic spoiled brat… There are a lot more, but I can't remember them. And then I –"

"Alright, fine, shut up," Malfoy cut her off. "You are a fucking bitch, Parker, you know that?"

She shot him a look of pure disdain. "So you keep saying. You know what the problem is with you, Malfoy?"

"I'm perfectly fine with myself, thanks," he muttered.

"You've no imagination," Heather swept on. "There are a lot more imaginative names out there to call me, but you stick with what you know! So, unfamiliarity upsets you, is that it?"

"Where the hell did you get that?" he looked at her, astonished.

"So it's true, isn't it? Right?" she asked insistently. "Right?"

"Fuck no!" Malfoy said emphatically. "How did you get from 'no imagination' to 'unsettled by unfamiliarity'?"

She crossed her arms. "I'm not bothering to repeat myself. If you're too slow to get it, it's not my problem anymore."

"Parker, you're full of shit," he ran his fingers through his hair. "Absolutely full of shit."

She grinned up at him, and he felt the blood rush to his head again. "Ha! Thanks."


	4. A Confrontation

A/N: Hey everyone! Actually, I have around 78 pages of this stuff already completed, hehehe. I've been on hiatus for a really really long time, so I've forgotten the most important message in an author's note: READ AND REVIEW, PEOPLE. Pretty please with extra cheese? Thanks!

-

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Heather were in the common room, sitting in armchairs around the fire after almost everyone else had gone to bed and a few stragglers remained, out of courtesy to Heather. She had returned from her walk with Malfoy while everyone else was at dinner and waited in Hermione's room.

"Heather, I can't believe you!" Ron complained. "Malfoy, of all people?"

"Ron!" She leaned forward to him, beseeching. "Please. There's nothing going on, really. You actually believe all those rumors?" She turned to Harry. "Harry, please. Talk some sense into Ron."

"And you even took a long time walking around with him!" Ron accused. "You weren't even at dinner!"

"Ron, I came back _during_ dinner. I've just been hiding out in Hermione's room," Heather explained patiently.

"That's still heaps of time," Harry remarked neutrally, making Heather frown at him.

"What did you two do?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking. "If you don't mind saying," she added hastily.

"And begin at the beginning," ordered Ron.

The three of them leaned into Heather conspiratorially.

"Oh, all right," Heather exhaled irritably, looking at their faces. "Fine. I went for a walk because people in the castle kept harassing me so… I went. So I was walking, and then Malfoy walked beside me, and we talked a bit, then we argued… Oh! Yeah, I forgot. He lent me his scarf because I forgot mine." She rummaged in her pocket and produced a Slytherin scarf.

"He _gave _you his scarf?" Ron asked, incredulous. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Not _gave_, Ron, _lent_," Heather corrected none too gently. "There's a stupid fucking difference."

"That was actually nice of him," Harry remarked, surprised. Was it really the Malfoy they knew? Perhaps the bastard had some hidden depths too.

"How are you going to give it back?" asked Hermione, frowning at Ron and Heather's exchange.

"Oh… Right. I have no idea," Heather admitted, stumped. "I sure as hell don't want to give it back in front of everybody. And I don't want to pull him into a corridor just to give it back." She made a face in revulsion.

"How about by owl?" Hermione suggested.

Heather's face lit up. "That's a great idea."

"Alright, so what happened next?" asked Ron impatiently. "Come on, let's get on with it!"

Heather shot him a dirty look. "We argued some more. Then we met you lot. And then we got into a bragging contest."

It had started when Heather looked at the lake, iron-gray and still, and was reminded of her vacation at the Loch Ness in Scotland where they stayed at an ancient castle once owned by a fire-eating wizard who had a passion for skulls and whose ancestors dabbled in a bit of torture.

'I miss Scotland,' she had said, half to herself. 'That was the best vacation ever.'

'_That's _your best vacation? Scotland?' Malfoy had sneered. 'You must not get out much, then. _My _best vacation was at Germany.'

She'd made a face. 'What, eating schnitzels and sauerkraut? Boring. _I _saw the Loch Ness water-horse.'

'Who cares about a stupid water-horse? _We _went on a Volksmärche, _and _a Weiberfastnacht, and we saw a woman eating live rabbits while juggling plates.'

'_That's _fun to you? Afternoon walks and carnivals? You must be even more boring than I thought. _We _explored a castle and saw shrunken heads in the basement.'

"Shrunken heads?" Ron's was aghast. "Bloody hell, Heather. You have a really different idea of _fun_."

"Yeah, we saw instruments of torture too!" Ron's reaction fueled her enthusiasm. "You know the Iron Maiden? It's like an upright coffin, but one side has nails on it, and when the person is shut inside it, he'd have holes all over, but the best part is, the nails aren't that long so you'd still be alive, but you'd be bleeding to death!"

Harry agreed silently with Ron, who looked rather green. Heather looked ordinary, but she had hidden depths too. Maybe that was why Malfoy kept going to her! "Okay, then what happened?"

She shrugged. "Then we argued some more. Then we went back. That's

it."

"Oh, really? That's it?" Ron said sarcastically, when his color returned to normal and the urge to vomit had subsided. "So now you're all lovey-dovey after your bragging contest?"

"_What?!"_ Heather stood up, blazing in anger. "Ronald Weasley! You take that back! Of all the foolish, insensitive, ignorant, misguided things to say!"

Ron had stood up too. "I won't take it back! There's obviously something going on with you two!"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ron!" she said angrily.

"You two, stop it right now," said Hermione sharply.

"Make him apologize!" Heather shouted.

"I'm not apologizing!" Ron shouted back. "He's the enemy, but you hang around with him! You want to be friends with him more than us! You like his company more than ours! Admit it!"

"Stop it right now!" Hermione screeched. "Sit down, both of you!" Ron and Heather sat down slowly, glaring at each other.

Harry felt a headache coming on. This was the bloody Yule Ball again! Although Viktor Krum was infinitely harmless compared to Draco Malfoy, obviously. He turned to Heather. "Have you considered _his _side?"

"What do you mean _his_ side?" Heather asked incredulously. "_I'm _here! Know my side!"

"I think what Harry means is," Hermione paused, having difficulty in finding the right words. "Is… Well…"

"Well?" Ron prompted impatiently. He couldn't believe this. Heather, going around with Malfoy! It was stupid – it was even worse than Hermione dating Krum!

"Well, okay, so we know Heather's side," she shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her neck. Ron tried not to stare. "But we don't know how Malfoy feels about, you know, this whole thing."

"Why would we want to know _that_?" Ron and Heather chorused.

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. "Heather, Malfoy probably… likes you," Harry said bluntly.

"What?!" Ron and Heather chorused, united in their shock.

"What an idea!" said Heather scornfully after a slight pause. Really! The nerve to even suggest such a thing! "I know you lot aren't stupid, but now I'm not so sure."

"Well, think about it!" Hermione insisted. "He keeps going around – "

"I am _not _going to think about it. The idea is laughable," Heather said with a tone of finality. "And I don't think we should ever talk about this again. It's doing me in." She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Can we sneak down to the kitchens and get some hot choc?" She felt like she needed to apologize, but as she thought the matter over in her mind, there was no reason to, so she said that instead.

"Yeah, I think I need one too," said Ron faintly.

"Dobby would love to see us anyway," Hermione said.

"The Invisibility Cloak is too big for the four of us," Harry said.

Heather grinned at him. "We'll just have to rely on our sneaking skills."


	5. The Morning After

A/N: Thanks so much to **iRedeem **for your continued patronage! :) It's worth updating this fic for you. Hehehe. So.. Read and review again!

During breakfast the next day, nobody needled Malfoy about him and Heather. Word had spread that he and Heather spent the previous day walking around the grounds, taunting and hexing people whenever they approached. In addition, Malfoy wore such a dark expression that no one dared talk to him.

The owls arrived shortly after breakfast, and he was surprised when his owl dropped a parcel on his lap while he was about to fork some bacon into his mouth. It was rather thin, soft, and badly wrapped.

He was aware that the Slytherin table's noise level considerably lowered – did the parcel mark further progress in the Malfoy-Parker love saga? He opened the parcel slowly, little by little, which he knew wore the Slytherins' patience thin. Finally, it was open, and out fell a… scarf. His scarf, that he lent to that stupid Parker, and a note. He glanced at the latter. On it was written only one word: _Thanks._

_That was it? _He expected – no, _wanted _to see a longer message from her. Even just her insults. He wrapped the scarf around his neck, and he joined as the Slytherins sighed in disappointment, shrugged their shoulders and went back to their chatter. Malfoy glanced furtively across the hall at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting next to that poofy-haired Granger, and was locked into some sort of contest where she was pushing her index finger against Potter's. He felt a hot, angry feeling in his gut, and attributed it to bacon going the wrong way. He tore his gaze away, and resumed eating as if nothing happened, but inside, he was seething.

Heather, meanwhile, sensed her morning was on the path of destruction when a fifth year from Ravenclaw, shouted out to her, "hey Parker! Where's your boyfriend Malfoy? Lover's spat?" The noise suddenly hushed. Heather paused for a few moments, wrinkling her nose, and shouted back, "I can smell you from here! Go take a fucking bath and spare us all!" The crowd sniggered while the Ravenclaw girl shrank in shame, and routine resumed once more.

Despite that incident, there were fewer comments now. Which was just as well, because she was running out of insults anyway. She wanted to salvage what was left of her morning, so after finishing breakfast, she turned to Hermione. "Are you going to class fifteen minutes early?"

Ron and Harry groaned.

"Yeah!" Hermione nodded. "You coming?" she asked Heather.

Ron and Harry groaned again. "Shut up, you two," said Heather cheerfully. "I'll go. Anything to get away from these hellish people," she added in a low tone.

"Right, we'll join you later," Ron grinned and waved at them. "We'll just enjoy our breakfast."

"Boys," Hermione exhaled fondly.

"We are not over, Potter," Heather mock-threatened, referring to their finger-pushing match earlier, which Harry won.

"You might want to get that finger to Madam Pomfrey," Harry teased.

She made a sound like _tchah! _and turned to Hermione. "C'mon?"

"Let's go," said Hermione, and they made their way to the fourth floor for their History of Magic with Professor Binns.

"About last night…" Hermione started.

"Why, what happened?" She asked a little too innocently, and Hermione frowned at her. She was still trying hard to block their conversation from the night before. Their trip down to the kitchen ironed out the tension from their discussion: her brief shouting match with Ron, calling them stupid, and… "I'm sorry," she blurted out.

"For what?" Hermione looked at her, puzzled.

She ran her fingers through her hair, then realized what she was doing, and abruptly stopped. Damn Malfoy! "Er, well… For calling you lot stupid."

Hermione chuckled, and glanced at me. "We know you didn't mean it."

"Yeah, well… I just wanted to make it clear." She smiled. "Thanks."


	6. A Stroll

A/N: Big thanks to **iRedeem **and **magical witch **for the reviews! I hope I'm not too late, **magical witch. **Read, review, and enjoy!

It was the last Saturday before winter holidays started. The Malfoy-Parker issue had died down, primarily because of Heather's scathing comebacks whenever she caught someone shouting at her, and because it was already a week old.

Heather was at the Owlery, attaching a letter to her parents to tell them what time the train was pulling in, and that Harry, Ron, and Hermione would spend the remainder of the holiday after New Year with them, when Malfoy came in. She ignored him. It was only the two of them in the room, surrounded by owls, the smell of owl pellets, the quiet rustle of feathers, and soft hoots.

"There," she said to herself as she finished affixing the letter. She patted her brown great horned owl, Inverness, on the head. "Go on, darling." Inverness clucked its beak at her, demanding a treat. Heather searched her pockets and produced a Chocolate Frog. She unwrapped the frog and held it out to Inverness, which clucked its beak more insistently. "Oh, fuck," she exclaimed angrily, as she frantically searched her pockets and came up with only lint. "You bloody, blasted owl, you know dad's going to feed you at home, you rotten glutton!" she muttered under her breath, as she shook the frog at her owl vigorously.

"I see you don't even have the least bit of control over your owl," Malfoy remarked, coming over to her. He pulled out an Owl Treat and handed it to Inverness. The owl snapped its beak at Heather and flew out the window.

"Yeah, I'm disappointed it only answers to the lowest slime," she responded, savagely biting the Chocolate Frog. She offered it to Malfoy as an afterthought. "Want some?"

"No thanks." Malfoy's lips curled.

"Suit yourself," Heather shrugged, and turned to go. Malfoy followed her down the stairs. "Hey, Malfoy," she started. She wanted to remark on his following her, but fearing uncomfortable implications, she settled on his hair instead. "Your hair really looks stupid like that." It was slicked back and sleek, and it made him look faintly gay. Scratch that, _very _gay.

He looked coldly at her. "Not as stupid as your dull hair." He indicated her long hair hanging down her back. "It makes you look even more boring than you are."

His comment took her by surprise. She resisted slapping him, because she started this, and by god, she was going to have the last laugh. "At least I don't look gay with my hair," she said, without turning to look at him, and so missed Malfoy looking surprised and smoothing his hair with something akin to chagrin.

They were nearing the seventh-floor corridor where the portrait of the Fat Lady was. It didn't occur to Heather to return to the common room to get Malfoy off her back. In fact, it didn't occur to her to tell Malfoy to go away. They were almost at the third floor when Heather couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"_So why do are you following me, Malfoy?"_ she was thinking of asking him. "_You like my company, don't you?"_

"Don't be bloody daft," said Malfoy coldly, and with horror, she realized she had said her thoughts out loud, and couldn't take it back. Lucky for her, their mutual animosity prevented awkward pauses and romantic implications. She could always count on it. "I'm going back to our common room."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. "You just like being with me so your day would be ruined." She staged a gasp. "You're a sado!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and smirked. "Parker, when are you going to get your conclusions right?" He made a noise like _tchah!_ and shook his head. "Women. You know everything but the obvious." His breath nearly stopped. Did he just fucking say that out loud? _The obvious? _He would kick himself later in the common room.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I invented that sound."

He pulled himself together internally and raised an eyebrow at her. "What sound?" Lucky for him, her mind operated on a different plane than anyone else's, so they were rarely on the same page when it came to underlying meanings.

She made the _tchah_ noise. "_That _noise. That's mine."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "It already exists, you idiot. It's not yours."

"Ha! But I'm the only one using it," she said defensively.

"Parker, you really must go and meet more people. Being in your pathetic circle has narrowed your already small mind."

She raised an eyebrow. "Small mind? You're the one with no imagination. And unlike _some _people, at least _I_ have a circle of _friends._"

"I _do _have friends," he said coldly, more than a little offended. The friends he had were the friends he could use and order around even when they were all older.

It was her turn to scoff. "They just aren't there when you need them for, say, a trip to Hogsmeade."

Malfoy wanted to kill her, and then kill her again.

Somehow, in their bickering, they had reached the double doors leading outside. "Why are you still here?" she demanded. "I thought you were going back to your common room."

Before he could reply, she swept on. "I won't let you see what my present for Deirdre is!"

He drew himself up and looked at her haughtily. "My parents already took care of our wedding present."

She muttered something that sounded exactly like, "no imagination," and pushed open the door. Before she could close it again, Malfoy had slipped past her.

"Besides," he continued in the same haughty tone, "she's not so important that I have to agonize over her present."

"Whatever," she muttered, and started walking briskly to the direction of Hagrid's hut. He kept pace with her.

"I wonder," she said, and Malfoy sighed. Whenever Parker opened her mouth, nothing good came of it. "You say you don't want people to think that you're gay, but why do you walk around with that kind of hairstyle all the time?"

"I wonder," he mimicked her. "What if you shut up for about five minutes? I bet you can't do that."

"Sure I can," she answered easily. What was five minutes anyway? "So you acknowledge that your hair makes you look gay?"

"I'm not acknowledging anything." He pulled out an hourglass from his pocket. "But you are."

"What are you prepared to bet?" she said, a challenging tone in her voice.

He mulled over his options. The winner – him, no doubt – could have the loser – her, obviously – feed him breakfast at the Slytherin table for two weeks. That would invite more nasty comments from strangers, and he wasn't sure if it was allowed anyway. Professor Snape might not approve. Deirdre Zabini's wedding!

"If I win," he drawled, meeting her in the eye, "you have to sit with me through Deirdre Zabini's wedding, _and _dance with me to every song at the reception."

She looked appalled. "Dancing? And with you? No fucking way."

"Giving up, are you?" he challenged.

She looked even more appalled. "Of course not! Fine. But no way am I sitting with you through the wedding. I have to keep Mum happy."

"You're chickening out," he smirked.

She smacked him on the arm. "No, you fuck bloody idiot. Mum gets terribly bored and starts to doze off, and she might embarrass us all so I cheer her up by… er, talking to her."

He rolled his eyes. "You insult all the people in the church."

"No!" she cried, then looked down. "Yeah." She looked at him sharply. "How'd you know, then?"

"Lucky guess," he said in a voice dripping with contempt.

"I don't _insult _them, I make _comments_," she shot back, sounding insulted herself.

"Whatever you say, Parker," he said in a singsong voice, shrugging.

"Oh, shut up," she smacked him again on the arm. It didn't bother him at all. People never attempted to do that to him, not with Crabbe and Goyle around, but they weren't here, and Malfoy didn't mind at all anyway.

"What are you betting, then?" he asked, returning to the conversation with an effort at focus.

She smirked. "If I win, you have to feed me breakfast at the Gryffindor table for two weeks."

_What! _It was uncanny – perhaps her mind didn't operate on such a different plane after all. "No fucking way. I am not sitting with you idiots."

"Ha!" her voice was triumphant. "Now who's chickening out?"

"Well, how can I be sure that you're going to fulfill the bet when I win?"

"_When _you win? The nerve!" she exclaimed hotly. Then, "ow!" she said angrily, as she stubbed her toe on a rock hidden by the snow. When she looked up, they were already in front of Hagrid's hut. Judging by the plume of smoke rising from the chimney, he was home. "Oh good, he's home," she said, marching to his door. All mention of the bet was forgotten. She knocked vigorously.

"You expect me to go in?" he said contemptuously.

"You're not invited," she answered smugly as Hagrid, seven feet tall, opened the door.

"Heather! Good ter see yeh!" Hagrid exclaimed happily and let her in. She went inside without looking back.


End file.
